


Detention

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-13
Updated: 2005-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detention isn't always something to be dreaded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thevina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lead Us Not...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/122981) by [Celandine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine). 



The drawl in his ear no longer worried Harry; it was instead a pleasure to hear the words, "Detention, Potter," and turn in his seat to meet Malfoy's cool gaze. "After dinner," the Head Boy added, before walking back towards his seat at the Slytherin table.

Harry looked around to be sure that no one had heard, except Ron and Hermione sitting near him. Hermione raised an eyebrow over the top of the _Daily Prophet_ , and Harry nodded.

"How's it going, Harry?" asked Ron in an undertone. "Any progress with getting Malfoy to help out against You-Know-Who? You've seen the conceited git five times in the last two weeks."

"Nothing yet," Harry said. "I don't want to be too obvious about what I'm really after."

Hermione leaned across the table. "But you've tried talking to him, haven't you? Suggested that if You-Know-Who _doesn't_ win out, it might be good to have a friend in the other camp, for instance? Malfoy's always been one to be very protective of his own skin."

"Yeah," said Harry uncomfortably. "Sort of."

"Sort of? Harry, the _whole reason_ you're doing this is to bring him over to our side, or at least learn something of You-Know-Who's plan. If this isn't going to work, we'll have to think of something else," hissed Hermione. "The point is not to just give you some fun evenings."

"I know, I know. I'll try again tonight," Harry said.

* * *

  
Harry made certain that no one else was in the corridor before he knocked. Not that it would be all that unusual for someone to be going into the Head Boy's room – Malfoy was notorious for calling any non-Slytherin on the carpet if he had the slightest excuse for it – but better not to attract any notice. At least the Head Boy and Girl had rooms outside of their House wings, since they might come from any House, but needed to be accessible to all students. Harry shuddered to think of trying to explain why he needed to get into Slytherin quarters.

Malfoy had evidently had words with the occupant of the guardian picture, a huffy-looking chimera, for the door swung open immediately.

"Late, Potter," came Malfoy's voice, although Harry could not see him at first. Three candles stood in a cluster on the desk, flickering. "Shut the door."

When Harry turned back around from closing it, Malfoy had stepped out from behind the four-poster bed, the drawn curtains of which had concealed him. He was wearing a dressing gown of dark green silk embroidered with a silver serpent on each lapel and the v of skin that showed below his neck looked startlingly pale against it. His hair shone almost gold in the candlelight, falling carelessly over his brow. Harry wanted to tear away the concealing fabric and watch that fair skin flush crimson with lust. Instead he waited, only shifting a little as he stood, to relieve the pressure of his trousers on his hardening cock.

The first time Harry had been here with Malfoy, they had both been impatient. After a few heated kisses, there had been scarcely time to undo the zips of their respective trousers and fumble a little before they had each come. What had impressed Harry most then was not only that Malfoy had known a good cleaning spell, but had used it first on Harry, then on himself. They had not prolonged the encounter, however, except to agree to meet again as soon as they could discreetly manage it.

Each time since then had been longer, less awkward, and tonight Harry was resolved to begin trying to persuade Malfoy to forsake Voldemort's cause. The trouble, as Harry saw it, was twofold: first, Malfoy would be going against his own father as well as his House, and Harry had no idea how deep Malfoy's loyalties ran; second, Harry suspected that Malfoy had roughly the same intention of convincing Harry to leave the association centered on Dumbledore. But he had promised Hermione and Ron, and he owed it to his friends to do his best.

"Scruffy as usual, I see," Malfoy interrupted Harry's thoughts. "Here. Try this on." A dressing gown much like the one Malfoy himself was wearing, but in scarlet silk embroidered with gold lions, sailed through the air towards Harry.

Malfoy seemed to read the question in Harry's mind, for he added, "I charmed it to look like that; I thought you might object to having something too obviously Slytherin wrapped around you."

It was too good an opening to pass up. "Except you," Harry said, pulling off his jumper and trousers and letting the garment wrap itself around him. He knotted the sash tightly, and glanced at Malfoy. Was that a blush? Surely not.

But the other boy's voice seemed overcasual as he said, "I had the house-elves bring up some cheese and biscuits, and a jug of pumpkin juice." He waved at the table by the window. "In case we get hungry. You know."

"I know," Harry agreed, and finally allowed himself to take a step forwards.

Suddenly Malfoy's arms were around his waist from behind, Malfoy's hands were tugging at the sash he had so carefully tied, and Malfoy's voice was hissing in his ear, "No, I don't think you do know, Potter. You don't know what you do to me, just by existing."

Both of their robes were off and Harry found himself flat on his back in the middle of Malfoy's bed, Malfoy kneeling over him, holding Harry's wrists against the duvet. Harry considered breaking loose, but decided against it. He could see Malfoy's stiff cock jutting out from the clump of curls as pale as the hair of his head, and wondered just what Malfoy had in mind to do. Harry was quite sure that Malfoy had far more experience than he did, even if the Head Boy had not yet shown much evidence of it other than some quite inventive ways of using his tongue.

The first thing Malfoy did, however, was to say in a conversational tone as he removed Harry's glasses, "Does your scar hurt?"

Harry blinked. "Er, not right now, no."

"But sometimes it does?" Malfoy persisted, leaning close and studying Harry's forehead intently.

"Sometimes, yeah," said Harry. He was not about to explain that his scar seemed to be connected to Voldemort, that it hurt worst when his enemy was most triumphant. Hermione's warning – "Remember, he is not a friend" – floated in his ears, and for all that Malfoy seemed to have genuine feelings of _some_ kind for him, Harry did not trust the Slytherin further than he could throw him, which under present circumstances was not at all. "Why?"

"No reason," said Malfoy, but he sounded disappointed. Or perhaps not, for the next minute he said, "So if I kiss you there, like this...?" and licked along the jagged scar.

Harry felt it as a pleasant warmth, tickling almost, and squirmed a little. "It's all right," he mumbled, as Malfoy's lips traveled past his eyebrow and down to exhale moistly in his ear.

"But this is better?" Malfoy licked the underside of Harry's jaw and sucked the hollow of his throat.

"Better," Harry agreed. Malfoy had released Harry's wrists, and tentatively Harry brushed the hair back from Malfoy's forehead.

The other boy looked up. "No touching," he said firmly, "not until I say. All right?" and smiled a smile that was sweet and predatory in equal parts.

Harry let his hand fall back. "All right."

"You don't have to repeat what I say, Potter, just do it." Malfoy touched Harry's lips, sliding one finger between them, then placed the wet tip of it on Harry's right nipple, making Harry gasp. "You won't regret it."

Both of his nipples were now being pinched, and Harry could only nod agreement as Malfoy's tongue traced a line down the center of his chest. He thought that Malfoy was going to suck him off, but after only a few teasing licks, Malfoy stopped and Harry could hear him muttering a spell, though the words were indistinguishable.

"Turn over, Potter," said Malfoy. When Harry hesitated, he said again, "Turn _over_. Now."

He wasn't... he was... Harry rolled onto his stomach and Malfoy nudged his knees up and apart.

"You know what I'm going to do, don't you?" drawled Malfoy, and again Harry heard him murmuring unfamiliar words.

Harry's arse suddenly felt different, and he realized that it must have been a lubricating spell, because Malfoy's finger had just slipped up inside him. At least, Harry thought it was a finger. He turned his head and squinted. He could not quite see what Malfoy was doing, but it was definitely...

"Circe!" shouted Harry, as Malfoy – _touched_ – something inside him. The movement stopped, and Malfoy's finger withdrew, leaving Harry feeling oddly alone.

Malfoy's face appeared in front of him. " _Circe?_ " said Malfoy, laughing.

"Picked it up from Hermione," Harry muttered, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Yes. Well. I shouldn't be surprised at Granger's choice of expletives," said Malfoy, "but ‘Merlin' would be a bit less jarring, if you don't mind. Calling on a witch at that moment is less than appropriate, don't you know. Offputting and all that."

He vanished from Harry's view, and Harry closed his eyes in relief as Malfoy again returned to the wholly delightful things he was doing to Harry's arse. When Malfoy's cock finally entered him, Harry was beyond worrying whether it might hurt. He had already come once, messily, but Malfoy's tongue on his balls and fingers up inside had quickly made him hard again.

"Fuck, Potter, after all that I didn't think you'd be so tight," panted Malfoy. "Relax, can't you?"

Harry tried, and must have succeeded, because Malfoy said, "That's better. Now it's my turn." Harry felt his opening being stretched as Malfoy's cock slid past the tight ring of muscle.

"Tell me if it feels good," said Malfoy. He withdrew and entered at a slightly different angle, then again, and again.

On the fourth stroke Harry felt the same sensation as before, and managed to say, "There, just there," in time.

"Excellent," Malfoy crooned, grabbing Harry's hips. "Hold on for the ride, Potter."

Harry decided later that the very first spell Malfoy had cast must have been one to slow himself down, because Harry knew that he could never have lasted anything like so long. Not that Harry objected, although by the time Malfoy had come, jerking off Harry to a second orgasm as well, Harry could already tell he would be quite painfully sore the next day, lubrication spell notwithstanding. Hermione doubtless knew of an appropriate healing charm, but there was no chance Harry would ask her for it.

Malfoy pulled out and rolled over to where Harry could see him, looking sleepy and satisfied, his eyes heavy-lidded. "I'm guessing you've never done that before," he said. "You're mine now, Potter."

Swallowing the denial that rose to his lips, Harry said only, "No more than you're mine, Malfoy."

"Care to bet?" Malfoy smirked.

"No," said Harry, "I'd rather eat. Didn't you say you had something?"

"On the table. Hold on a minute, though, and let me clean up," Malfoy said. "I prefer not to get the chairs dirty."

They lounged in Malfoy's dressing gowns, eating water biscuits and red Leicester cheese – "I told the house-elf Stilton," said Malfoy in annoyance – and drinking goblet after goblet of cold pumpkin juice. After a long silence, Harry mentally pinched himself, and spoke.

"Why, Malfoy?"

Malfoy licked his finger and dabbed at a few stray crumbs. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why are we here? Why do you seem to fancy me? Since our first year at Hogwarts we've been rivals, to put it politely. I'm not exactly the best-looking bloke in our year, my mother was Muggle-born, I'm the enemy of You-Know-Who. So what the hell are you doing shagging me?" Harry had stood up from his chair and was pacing around the room, waving his hands. "I don't even know what I'm doing. I should leave."

An amused gleam lit Malfoy's eyes. "You really don't understand, do you?"

"Understand what?" Harry said, leaning over Malfoy, who put one hand on Harry's chest and with the other pointed to the empty chair.

"Sit down and drink your pumpkin juice like a good boy, Potter, and I'll explain." Harry sat, and Malfoy continued, "It's quite simple, you know. It's all about power."

"Power?" echoed Harry blankly. What power could there be in the two of them getting it on?

"You're repeating me again," sighed Malfoy. "For someone as successful as you've been, you're frightfully thick-witted sometimes. Does Granger do _all_ your homework for you? Never mind, never mind," he said, as Harry opened his mouth to object. "I won't bring the mu... bring Granger into this. Think about it, Potter. We both know that there are two great factions in the wizarding world, and no one can be certain how it will all turn out. My family is strongly connected with the one side, but what if we don't come out on top, unlikely though that is? Good to have some connection with the other, in case it should win, and keep in power. I'm not that concerned with the philosophies and justifications of either one; I want to make sure that Draco Malfoy doesn't lose out." He looked Harry over, and added, "And I do actually think you're rather good-looking. You must do something besides play Quidditch to keep in shape."

The coolly practical reasons Malfoy gave took Harry aback, although he had to admit that his own motives and actions were equally based on political reality and fueled by lust, rather than any more tender emotion. Ignoring Malfoy's final comment, he said, "So you think that a good fuck or two might get you some slack cut, if I win out over Vold..."

Malfoy, now wearing a panicked expression, clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Don't say that name," he hissed. "Not when I'm here. If you're mad enough to risk it on your own, fine, but don't put me in danger."

Harry turned his head away from Malfoy's hand. "All right, all right. If you're that scared of him. But as I was saying – _if_ I win, which is obviously yet to be decided, why should I help you out? A few good shags doesn't seem like enough reason to pardon a traitor."

For an instant an unreadable look flickered in Malfoy's eyes, then he shrugged. "Can't hurt to try, can it? So what would it take to convince you?"

"Something that suggested you weren't only looking after your own hide. Something that told me you wouldn't just be waiting to sell me out if you got the chance, Malfoy," said Harry, as harshly as he could manage when he was distracted by the way that Malfoy's robe had fallen open, giving Harry more than a glimpse of trimly muscled thigh.

"Something like information, I suppose you mean," said Malfoy, and gave a short laugh.

Harry could almost hear Hermione advising him to be careful. "That would convince me all right," he said casually. He leaned over and rested a hand on Malfoy's bare knee. "But let's not waste time talking about it right now. It's not that late yet, if you want... he let his voice trail off, and cocked his head to one side questioningly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

Sliding off his own chair and kneeling before Malfoy's, Harry leaned his elbows on Malfoy's knees. "I may not be as talented with my tongue as you are, but I'll do my best." He pushed away the clinging green silk and bent his head, taking Malfoy's soft cock into his mouth and suckling on it, pleased that within seconds it began to swell. He felt Malfoy's hands removing his glasses again – one of these days he would remember to do that himself – then coming to rest on his shoulders. Running his tongue over Malfoy's balls, Harry was reminded of having those same balls slap against him as Malfoy pounded away. He had the feeling that the Slytherin, with his talk of power, would be reluctant to let Harry do the same to him; but Harry decided that another time he would convince Malfoy to submit. The thought of it brought a rush of heat to his groin, and he dropped his right hand between his legs even as he continued to suck Malfoy off, using his left hand to rub the base of Malfoy's cock.

Malfoy grabbed at Harry's shoulders as Harry let his teeth graze Malfoy's shaft, not hard enough to hurt. "Ah... fuck, yes, Potter," he gulped, and thrust his hips up. Harry almost choked as Malfoy's cock rammed into the back of his throat, and reflexively tightened the grip of his left hand. Malfoy froze for an instant. Then his hips jerked forward again, his cock pulsing, and Harry tasted salty-bitter-musk as he swallowed.

His own cock was achingly hard for the third time that night. Malfoy must have guessed it, for as Harry finished licking him clean, he tugged Harry up to perch awkwardly, half on the arm of the chair and half in his lap, and with expert fingers soon stroked him to a last, shuddering, nearly-dry climax.

They looked at each other and smiled tentatively. "Snape is bound to give the N.E.W.T. class a lot of work tomorrow," commented Malfoy, idly stroking a thumb over Harry's balls. "But I think after the mess you've made here, you probably deserve another detention... shall we say, Thursday night?"

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for Thevina, who likes it when things are slightly awkward.


End file.
